Daxton frowns. “She already speaks with her counselor.”

Mr. Proctor rearranges the papers on his desk. This is the fidgetiest man I’ve ever met. “Well, so far it’s been fairly one sided.”

“Explain that please?”

“Emme hasn’t said very much to her counselor, despite repeated efforts to engage her.”

Daxton pushes up from his chair. “You know, for a school that prides itself on elite education, you seem to be failing where my sister is concerned.”

“I assure you, we’re the doing the best we can.”

“You need to do better,” I say. “Daxton can’t help Emme if he doesn’t know what’s going on, and if your staff fails to communicate, no one can be proactive. Emme will be back on Monday. In the meantime, I suggest you put together a plan to help Emme and her classmates deal with this tragedy in a sensitive, responsible manner.” I push out of my chair, done with the conversation.

“Thank you for your time,” Daxton mutters as we show ourselves out of the office, leaving Mr. Proctor sputtering and Linda slack-jawed.

Emme is slouched in a chair in the main office, hugging her knapsack, another girl sitting beside her, the two of them whispering together.

“All right, Emme, let’s go,” Daxton says, back to being angry.

“Am I still suspended?”

“We’ll talk about it in the car. Do you need anything from your locker?”

She roots around in her bag. “My journal.”

“Do you need me to come with you to get it?” he asks.

Emme looks horror stricken, maybe at the idea of having a chaperone to her locker. “Uh, no, I can go. I’ll be right back.”

“You can meet me out front by the car.”

She and her friend bolt down the hall, whispering furiously to each other. Her friend throws a glance over her shoulder before they push through the door. She may not recognize Daxton from his TV show, but I’m sure she’s noticed he’s attractive. As have all the secretaries, who seem to be unable to stop their drool. Emme stops about halfway down the hall, still within view.

“Dax, you must see that I only want what’s best for Emme.” We both turn to find Linda standing behind us.

“And you think blindsiding me and dragging her through a custody battle right after we’ve lost our parents is best for her?”

“It doesn’t have to be a battle. You can make this easy for all of us.”

“Emme wants to stay with me.”

“Of course she does. The rules will be lax. Look what’s already happened. I know this is difficult, and my intention isn’t to cause more stress but to alleviate it, for both of you.”

Daxton cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not buying this . . .” He makes a random hand gesture while he searches for the words. “ ‘I’m helping you’ act. How does suing me for custody of my sister, who’s grieving and in pain, make things better or easier for anyone? If you want to communicate with me, you should do it through your lawyer.”

He heads for the front doors and I follow. He’s clearly struggling to remain calm as he steps out in the warm afternoon. He runs his hands through his hair, muttering a few choice curse words, and spins around to face the door, nearly slamming into me.

“Shit.” He grabs me by the shoulders to prevent me from stumbling back. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone.”

“It’s fine.” I glance at his hand, which is still on my shoulder. It’s warm and wide, and I would really appreciate it if my body would stop responding to physical contact from Daxton like I actually like him. Although the way he stood up for his sister is one check mark against all the Xs.

He drops his hand and exhales heavily. He looks suddenly exhausted.

“I think it would be a good idea to meet and discuss how we’re going to deal with future issues as they arise,” I say.

“This won’t happen again.”

I cross my arms over my chest. It seems to be my go-to move when talking to this man. It prevents me from angry flailing, a habit I seem to be unable to curtail when I’m near him. “Let’s be real about this. There are always bullies who prey on people they believe are weak. Normally Emme might not fit into that category, but she’s struggling emotionally. Acting out is not uncommon, nor should it be unexpected considering the circumstances.”

I take a deep breath before I go on, softening my voice. “I realize I may not be your first choice as conservator, but I’m not going anywhere until the custody issue is resolved. I also think we should meet to discuss how you’re planning to move forward. If this goes to trial, I’m going to be involved, whether you like it or not, so it would be good to have some background information so I’m not blindsided like you were.”

He exhales a long breath and kneads the back of his neck. “You’re right. I get it. When’s good for you? Should we meet at that diner again?”

“We can meet at my office. That way we can avoid distractions.” I’m referring to his Beach Barbie friend from last time, obviously. “I have time tomorrow between eleven thirty and twelve thirty.”

“I’ll make it work.”

Emme comes out with her knapsack slung over her shoulder. Her eyes are red and still a little teary. Shuffling her feet nervously, she looks between her brother and me. “I’m sorry you had to come to the school today, Kailyn. I didn’t mean to get into trouble.”

I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I know things are tough right now, and sometimes the emotions are just too much to handle.”

She nods and sniffs. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you, ’cause I know I shouldn’t be your problem.”

I want to absorb some of her sadness, so I step forward and wrap my arms around her. For a moment I worry I’ve done the wrong thing, at least until she returns the embrace, squeezing hard as her body shakes with silent sobs. Her grief is so big it chokes out sound.

“I know it hurts.” I don’t give her false promises. I don’t tell her it’ll get better, easier, even though in a lot of ways it will. But she will be forever changed by this, and diminishing her anguish isn’t going to help.

She clings and cries while I rub slow circles on her back. I glance up to find Daxton watching the exchange, his own sorrow etching lines in his young face. Our gazes meet and I see all of his worries: that he can’t do this, that he’s not enough, that he’s going to fail her. It melts a little more of the ice around my heart.

Eventually she steps back and gives me a small smile. “Thanks for not telling me it’s going to be okay.”

I return the smile. “That’s what people say when they don’t know what else to say.”

“Or they want you to stop being sad.” She adjusts her knapsack and chews on the inside of her lip.

“We should probably go. I’m sure Kailyn has meetings this afternoon.” Dax’s hands are shoved in his pockets and he looks contrite.

“Oh yeah, right. Are you taking me home?”

“We’ll talk about it in the car.” He tosses the keys to her and she manages to catch them. “Why don’t you pick the music since I know you hate all my presets.”

“Okay. Thanks again, Kailyn.”

“It’s no problem.”

She glances over her shoulder as she crosses the lot. The lights flash on a black Audi. Of course Daxton drives a sleek sports car.

Dax rolls back on his heels. “Thank you.”

I adjust my purse strap and shrug. “I’m legally obligated to be here, so there’s really nothing to thank me for.”

“You’re not legally obligated to be nice to Emme.”

“I’m not going to be hard on a grieving teenager. That’s your job, not mine. I won’t be an asshole to her just because you were an asshole to me.”

“I’m sorry about losing my co—”

I cut him off. “I’m not asking for an apology, nor do I want one.”

“But can’t I—”

I glance at my watch. “I need to get back to the office. I’ll see you tomorrow to discuss moving forward with the custody case and where I need to be involved.” I have phone calls and some case notes to review on the new pro bono case Holly sent my way. We’re trying to make it possible for this family to formally adopt a seven-year-old who’s been bounced around for the past two years.

“Will I be allowed to apologize then?”

He falls into step beside me as I head for the parking lot. I can feel him looking at me. Maybe trying to figure me out. Half of me wants to hug him and tell him it’ll get better eventually, and the other half wants an apology, but not for taking out his frustration on me.

“I’ll let you know if I feel like hearing it tomorrow.”

I stop at my very practical Volvo and unlock the door. Daxton is still standing there, with his hands in his pockets.

“Is there anything else?” I meet his perplexed gaze. I’m sure he’s used to people giving in to him all the time, accepting apologies just because he smiles and looks pretty.